


damn the dark; damn the light

by Snap_crackle_spock



Category: Infinity Train (Cartoon)
Genre: + a touch of angst, F/M, Fluffy!!, Friends to Lovers, Pre-Canon, kind of a 5 + 1 except PSYCH! it's a 3 + 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snap_crackle_spock/pseuds/Snap_crackle_spock
Summary: Veni. Vidi. Vici.I️ came. I️ saw. I️ conquered.Veni. Vidi. Amavi.I️ came. I️ saw. I️ loved.
Relationships: Grace/Simon (Infinity Train)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	damn the dark; damn the light

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from The Chain by Fleetwood Mac
> 
> This fic was written before episodes 6-10 came out

_ Veni. Vidi. Vici.  _

_ I came. I saw. I conquered.  _

It was Latin, she had read it in a book once. 

Grace had always admired the Romans. Not just for their advancements in technology, which were impressive in their own right, or for their wonderful society, which had flourished like a flower in sunlight under the right rulers. 

No, Grace had always admired the Romans for their conviction, their drive. As a people, they had said  _ we are and will be the best and nothing will ever change that,  _ and they proceeded to follow through by creating one of the longest-lasting empires in history. 

It was because of them, because of great leaders like Caesar or Hadrian or Vespasian, that Grace realized how powerful the Apex could truly be. Not just a group of kids wandering aimlessly through the train, praying that they stumble upon food before they starve, but an actual force to be reckoned with. 

* * *

_ I. _

_ VENI. _

When Grace had first arrived on the train, she’d been alone. Not even a null to accompany her on her journey, as she later learned most passengers were granted. Part of her hoped it was because the train knew she didn’t need someone to tell her what to do. Part of her worried it was because the train knew she was a lost cause. 

But she didn’t think about that anymore. She had more important things to do. 

It took her months to find Simon. Or maybe weeks. Or maybe years. Time didn’t move right on the train. Maybe it didn’t move at all. 

They’d met by accident, and they’d both thought the other was a product of the train, not another passenger. Grace had taken to wearing gloves by then. She still didn’t quite know what the numbers meant, but she didn’t like the way that the other creatures she passed seemed to tut sympathetically at the way the green digits snaked up her arm. So she’d snagged a pretty pair of purple gloves that had extended up past her elbows and that was that. That was why Simon hadn’t seen her number at first. 

She hadn’t seen his because it was so small. 

Like, single-digit small. 

“What’s wrong with your number?” She’d asked him once they’d decided that they  _ weren’t _ going to kill each other. They were sitting on the rim of a fountain in some inconsequential car, the running water a calming way to keep their conversation hidden from anyone passing by. 

“What’s wrong with  _ your  _ number?” He’d retorted defensively, stuffing his hand into the pocket of his hoodie so she couldn’t see it. They’d still been kids then, and it had been too big for his wiry frame. “We’re supposed to want to get it to zero,” he grumbled. 

She wrinkled her nose at that, “Why?” Every game she’d ever played, the goal was never to get  _ zero. _ Back in her days of competitive dance, she’d been relentless in her mockery of the girls who’d gotten zeroes for their categories, and they’d envied her for her perfect tens. You never  _ wanted _ to be the lowest. 

“When we get to zero, we get to leave,” Simon mumbled, not looking at her. She barely could hear him over the gurgling fountain. 

“Who told you that?” She’d asked, crossing and uncrossing her ankles. Fifth and second and fifth and second and fifth and second. Échappe, échappe, échappe.  _ Slipping movement, _ that was what her ballet teacher had told her it meant. 

“A cat,” he said, a bitter tone in his voice. When she looked back at him, he was glaring a hole straight into the ground, like if he looked hard enough it would reveal the tracks underneath. “I don’t know why I believed her, though.”

Grace felt a flash of compassion for him and then looked down to see her number adjusting itself. She didn’t have the time to recount and see if it had gone up or down, though. “Was she a liar?” They’d been 10 back then. Things like that were still simple. 

“Yeah,” he’d laughed, an angry thing, and drawn his long legs up to curl into a ball on the fountain rim, “more than that. But yeah.”

Grace considered for a minute before making a decision and springing up, turning to extend a hand to Simon. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s not like it’s a real cat.” When he gave her an incredulous look, she rolled her eyes and grabbed his hoodie, hoisting him up from the fountain. “Listen, all trains have conductors, right?”

“...Yeah?” He quirked an eyebrow, still not totally understanding her. At his look, Grace continued. 

“Well, conductors are like the bosses of trains, yeah? So I figure we can just ask them. Then they’ll be able to tell you that this-” she waved her glowing green arm at him, “is  _ right _ and  _ that-” _ she pointed to his tiny, tiny number, “is what a lying cat wants you to  _ think _ is right. So let’s go meet the conductor.” But she waited, waited to see what he’d do. 

After a second of contemplation, he looked back at her, eyes full of sudden determination. 

“Okay. Let’s go meet the conductor.”

Just as he took a step forward, though, she splayed a hand against his chest, and pointed to his feet, which were concealed in grimy  _ black _ socks and  _ brown _ sandals that were falling apart at the soles. 

“But first, we’re getting you some new shoes.”

* * *

_II._

_ VIDI. _

The actual idea of using strategy instead of random and chaotic attacks has come from Simon. Or… well not entirely, but she’d still give him partial credit. Though, she’d rather be wheeled than admit that to him. 

He’d been the one that gave her the book,  _ The History of The Great Roman Empire.  _ They didn’t have a way to tell time on the train, but they still liked to make a rough estimate of counting the days and nights. The Apex had picked up a few of their own holidays, along with retaining a few from before. 

Car Day was what passed for Christmas, now. It marked the yearly holiday of when she and Simon and the handful of kids they’d picked up along the way had found the Mall Car that they now called home. They would scrounge together whatever decorations they could find that wouldn’t talk and paint the walls in festive colors. And, as per tradition, you got to steal a gift. 

It was a kind of game they played, where everyone would find something valuable enough to cause envy, and everyone was encouraged to steal at least one by the end of the night. 

Grace and Simon were usually left alone, mostly just based on rank, but sometimes if she was feeling particularly generous, she would help their youngest or newest recruits steal Simon’s as he pretended to turn a blind eye. 

It was always a badge of honor the kids held with them, being the ones to be clever and fast enough to take something from Simon who’s number was almost as high as Grace’s. It made them confident, welcomed, and  _ much _ more likely to stick around. 

But Simon had surprised her that year. They didn’t always participate in Car Day shenanigans, mostly because what they wanted was simply handed to them. But that year they’d decided to have a bit of fun and join in. 

Grace had walked away with a CD player and headphones –an incredibly rare find–, a new tube of lipstick, and a long and unbroken ribbon on a stick. 

Simon, on the other hand, had returned to their shared headquarters and presented her with-

“A book?” She’d raised her eyebrows in shock, arms crossed in front of her because it seemed like some kind of trick, “Benny found a whole pack of action figures. I️ thought for sure you would go after those.”

“I️ was gonna,” he said sheepishly, fighting down the little jump he did when she snatched the book from his hands and started flipping through it. She was enthralled by the drawings of men in capes and armor, of the pictures of statues, “but Norah refused to budge for, like, the  _ whole _ day. So I️ ended up just camped out above her, waiting for her to pass out so I️ could grab this.”

Grace shut the book and held it back out to him, waving it a bit when he didn’t take it. “What, you don’t want the  _ one _ thing you got all day?”

He stared blankly at her, then the book, then back to her before finally his jaw snapped shut and he returned to the present. “I got it for you.”

That was… that wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. They both knew that the other was capable of handling things themselves, that neither needed a babysitter or someone to keep them safe. It’s just that they liked each other’s company, was all. She didn’t need him to fight her battles for her, and he knew that. 

Why would he steal it  _ for _ her? The entirety of the Apex was founded on one belief: do what makes  _ you _ happiest. Don’t live for anyone else. When they raided other cars, sure the kids were expected to bring some of their loot to Grace, but that was more to keep them in line and under the Apex’s code. She’d never… she’d never ask Simon to do that. 

“Why?” She found herself saying, and she regretted that it came out in a disgusted tone. She wasn’t mad. She really, really wasn’t. It was just a shock. She couldn’t even remember the last time someone had given something to her just because they’d wanted to. 

Simon’s gaze seemed to harden at that, and he leaned back against the little table they’d set up that was littered with little maps of each car on post-its that they could switch around as the order of the cars changed. He reached back and picked up one of the figurines on the table, one he was halfway through carving. A white cat. He didn’t tell people about it, but Grace had seen upwards of a hundred of them, all started and then discarded halfway through, like he couldn’t bring himself to finish. This one was only half out of the wood, the left side of her face still nothing but a birch block. 

“I dunno,” he shrugged, turning the figure over and over in his hands, considering it from every angle, “I just thought you would like it. There’s, uh, there’s a return card in the back.” He didn’t look up at her, still passing the half-finished cat from one hand to the other. 

Grace wanted to say something, something to rectify the way she’d accidentally snapped, but the words couldn’t seem to form, so instead, she just flipped through the book again until she hit the inside of the back cover. 

**PROPERTY OF THE LIBRARY CAR. PLEASE RETURN WHEN FINISHED.**

“Shut up!” She grinned, using her free hand to shove his chest and cause him to stumble and nearly drop the cat. As he recovered, he looked up at her with a small smile. “A  _ library car? _ Simon, why didn’t you just  _ tell me _ about it?”

He finally set the figurine down, suddenly trying to play it cool as he shrugged nonchalantly, “I thought that the surprise would be better. ‘Sides, you’re not the only one who can appreciate good showmanship.”

“We’re going right now,” she decided, turning to grab her pack and gloves, “go round up any kids who want to come, but I don’t want a big crowd. Most of them are probably asleep by now, anyway.”

With a dutiful nod, he turned and marched out of the doors, the glass long since broken, and before she could stop herself Grace turned and quickly called out, “And Simon?”

He stopped immediately, twisting to look back at her with a wide and curious gaze, the same one he got every time they entered a particularly beautiful car they’d never been to before. She could remember the first time she’d seen that look, back when it was still just the two of them and they entered what appeared to be a giant botanical garden, with monstrous-sized butterflies soaring above them for miles. He didn’t get that look so often now, they’d seen so much that things like that were just old hat now, and it warmed Grace’s insides to witness that look once again. 

“Yeah?”

“Uh…” she started, unsure of what she’d even wanted to tell him in the first place. In the end, she just settled into a familiar, teasing smirk and said, “just don’t go getting all soft on me. If you keep this up, your number’s  _ never _ gonna get bigger than mine.”

He returned to her a wicked grin, one that echoed of right before they landed in a new car and when he’d first gotten his stupid boots to work. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” And then, softer, “Happy Car Day, Grace.”

* * *

_ III. _

_ VICI. _

After a few months, they began getting the hang of things. With only a bit of regret, Grace had slowly started phasing out the fantasy and sci-fi books she’d always been partial to, and begun replacing them with nonfiction. History. Sociology. War.

She learned a lot in those few months. 

For example: a little healthy competition never hurt anybody.

“Apex!” she called, her voice only half-muffled by the golden mask covering her face, “Highest numbers gets first pick! Spirits high!”

“And numbers higher!” The rest cheered back at her before launching into action. The car they’d just arrived at was filled with instruments, penguins playing the instruments, and polar bears watching the penguins play the instruments. To put it shortly: a whole lot of null. 

She waited just a moment, letting the kids all run in first, content to watch the chaos of her own creation as they dove into the antarctic orchestra and began wreaking the havoc they were becoming known for. It was a beautiful thing, watching your tribe of misfits blossom from uncoordinated and ineffective to semi-coordinated and  _ extremely _ effective. Grace could shed a tear, really. 

“You just gonna stand there all day or are you gonna help?” Simon teased as he jogged past her, twirling the handles of his harpoon pack lazily. She took the challenge with a grin and crouched down, took a breath, then sprinted off, leaving him in the dust behind her. 

Grace had taken years of dance and gymnastics before the train had gotten her, and it came in handy in times like these. With a grace she imagined for Odette and Giselle, she tumbled into the crowd of seats, hopping from polar bear to polar bear, before using her harpoon pack to pull herself to the icy ceiling and to the crystalline chandelier. 

Walking on walls had always been Simon’s turf, but she’d be damned before she let him get a higher number than her because he got here first. 

Waving down to her adoring crowd, she swung from harpoon line to harpoon line until she had the chandelier’s clasp right in front of her. With a quick “Apex! Heads up!”, she swung herself forward and kicked the clasp, causing the ice to shatter and the chandelier to come loose. With one more kick, she sent the whole thing tumbling down...down...down… where it crashed into the seats and dissolved into a million beautiful shards of glassy ice. 

When she looked at her arm, the green numbers had extended up past her gloves. 

They’d go back down eventually, but it was a nice feeling while it lasted. 

From down below, Grace could hear the beautiful sound of instruments being taken and smashed and the delighted cheers the action brought. Scanning over her domain, she saw the majority of the Apex on the stage, as that was where the majority of the loot lay. But, of course, always one to walk his own path, as she scanned she caught sight of Simon, over where the technician’s booth was, just as he crashed through the window. 

Ever the curious spirit, Grace began swinging his direction. 

Once she got there, she was surprised to see him not smashing everything he could find, as any of the other Apex members would, but rather digging through the wiring and fiddling with the board. 

“Whatcha got there, Si?” she asked, sitting herself down on a part of the window that wasn’t covered in shattered glass and swinging her legs back and forth. “You gonna put on a light show for us?”

“You wish, huh?” he grinned just as he held up a bright red wire, “though I don’t think I could beat your’s if I tried.”

“It’s true,” she struck a pose, “I  _ was _ pretty spectacular.”

“You always are,” he hummed in agreement, “But I think that this could be a very close second.” With that, he pulled on the wire, causing it to snap in half, and suddenly all of the lights in the car shut off, save for the Apex’s glowing green arms. 

She blew a low whistle and got up to join him in watching the stage, “pretty impressive. For someone with such a low number.”

“Pretty humble,” he retorted, not turning to face her, “for someone with such a high one.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” she threw an arm around his shoulders, leaned her head against him, “because you’re the  _ only _ one who gets to see it. As soon as we’re out of the booth, I’m back to the super-tough badass that doesn’t take no for an answer.”

“Except from any of the other Apex kids,” he pointed out, “who could bring you a piece of loose string and you’d congratulate them.”

“Ugh!” she rescinded her arm and playfully pushed him, “It’s totally a tactic and you know that. Plenty of studies have shown that positive reinforcement works  _ way _ better on kids than negative.”

“Yeah?” he laughed, pushing her back, “is that why you’re always telling me I’m the strongest, coolest, most handsome guy you’ve ever known?”

She rolled her eyes before ducking down and sweeping his legs out from under him, coming back up just in time to catch him by the hoodie and hold him just enough so that he wouldn’t hit the floor. “Si, you’re, like, the  _ only _ guy I’ve ever known.”

“Does that make a difference?”

She fought off a smile as she pulled him back up, echoing the action of all those years ago back on the first day they’d met at the fountain. “I  _ guess…” _ she grumbled, not letting him go when he was on his own two feet, “that if we were being  _ technical,” _ she stepped forward into his space, “then because, and  _ only _ because you’re, like, the  _ only _ guy I know who’s older than 14,  _ technically… _ you are the strongest, coolest, most handsome guy I’ve ever known.”

“Yeah?” He asked, and she could feel the way his heart had started to pick up. The way that hers had, too. 

“Yeah…” she nodded, “but that also means that, by that logic, you are also the  _ lamest, _ scrawniest, most  _ ridiculous _ guy I’ve ever known.”

He laughed to himself before saying, “and you, Grace Monroe, are the silliest, toughest, lamest, most ridiculous,  _ only _ girl I’ve ever known.”

When she surged up to kiss him, he didn’t even need a second to react. 

Time wasn’t exactly a thing on the train, but they tried to estimate. And by their estimations, they’d spent at least nine years on the train together, barely straying as far as one car away from each other that whole time. And yet, this was still new. That was one of the things she loved about this place, that there was  _ always  _ something new. 

She’d kissed him twice before. Once, back when it was just the two of them, right before they’d made it to the conductor and she’d been scared that a door would open up and eat the both of them. Or, worse, only one of them and the other would be left behind. And the second time, a few years after that, once they’d picked up a handful of kids and had begun living nomadically from car to car, after they’d just faced a null with a bone to pick and Simon had gotten really, really hurt. 

Like, she was scared he wasn’t going to make it through the night kind of hurt. 

Nothing had ever come of either of those small and scared kisses. They just moved on and kept living. 

But this time? This time it wasn’t because she was scared of the train. It wasn’t  _ the train _ dictating her actions and pushing her towards a conclusion. This was Grace,  _ only _ Grace, letting her joy come from  _ her _ choices. 

When Simon pushed back, putting a hand at the nape of her neck. The world exploded. If Grace had cared to open her eyes, she would see how literally this was true. The rest of the Apex had gotten their hands on the lighting rigs and had begun hoisting them down until the lights exploded, and elsewhere someone had set fire to the curtains. 

But when Grace and Simon pulled away from each other, it took them another minute to notice anything wrong at all. 

“We should… We should probably go make sure they don’t hurt themselves,” Grace whispered, not breaking eye contact. 

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes still wide and a faint blush present, “we probably should.”

But they didn’t budge for another eternity. Or, at least, that’s what it felt like. Grace just stayed rooted there, staring into his eyes and desperately not wanting him to let go of her. It wasn’t until she could hear the kids calling their names that she finally stepped away, finally turned and readied her harpoon pack. 

“I’ll…” She trailed off. Then smiled. Then shook the confusing emotions out of her head. Things to be done, first. “I’ll bring up the front, you bring up the rear. Make sure they all get out safe, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded, just as dazed as she was. 

She nodded back, then crouched through the window, aiming her handles, before a hand grabbed hers and spun her back around, and ever so quickly she found him pressing his lips back against hers. This time not quite as soft, intimate. Now more rushed, as if he couldn’t have waited. 

“Sorry,” he blushed as they pulled apart again, “I… uh… yeah. Just wanted to do that.”

She grinned at him, reached out to tug his ponytail once, then let her pack fire. “I’ll see you back home, Si.”

* * *

_ IV. _

_ AMAVI. _

It was late. Grace liked to shut off the lights of the mall after whatever she estimated to be a day, just to encourage the little ones to go to bed. They’d tried raids after a collective 3 hours of sleep between the 20 of them. It didn’t work. 

She didn’t like playing mother, she wasn’t particularly good at it, but someone had to and everyone listened to her. And, if there were days where she simply couldn’t do it, Simon was always there to have her back. Always by her side.

Just to prove her point to herself, she looked down next to her, where he was passed out on the mattress they’d found from a car that’d had a million of them covering the floor, which the Apex took full advantage of and hauled four cars over, back to their base. Now, everyone had a new bed and was enjoying the comfort of a decent night of sleep. 

The two of them didn’t always share a bed. They had their own rooms (Simon had camped out in the security guard’s office when they’d first moved into the mall and Grace had found a dress shop that she particularly liked) but there were rare occasions where separation anxiety would rear its ugly head and they’d go into their little makeshift office with the newly installed mattress under one of the tables and curl up in each other's company. 

Grace and Simon had spent a  _ long _ time forging their way to the front of the train to finally meet Amelia. In that time, Grace had outgrown four pairs of shoes and Simon’s hair had gone from a near-buzzcut to long enough that it warranted a hair tie. They’d both shaved for the first time on that journey, Simon on his face and Amelia on her legs and then they’d jokingly switched. (That was how Simon ended up with a leg-hair smiley face that hadn’t grown out for weeks.)

When they’d first arrived at the mall car, they’d both been ecstatic at the prospect of their own rooms. By that time, they’d collected at least 10 other kids, and it was evident that both of them craved their own space. Grace loved her Apex, but hearing the complaints of a group of preteens every day for almost a year without an escape can weigh on a person. 

But when she’d picked her dress store and made a pile of all the cushions of the chairs and piles of soft fabric, after she’d clapped twice to turn off the lights and pulled one of the few blankets the group had been able to find over her, she’d found that she couldn’t sleep. It should’ve been the first night of good rest in a long time, but she couldn’t even keep her eyes closed. 

She tried reading one of the handfuls of books she’d picked up along the way, tried counting sheep then numbers then people she could remember from her old life, but nothing worked. 

Eventually, with a grunt of dissatisfaction or humiliation or just humility, she got up, picked up the blanket and the softest pillow of the bunch, and dragged them over to across the second floor, where Simon had claimed his room. 

When she opened the door, he wasn’t much better. 

She’d been expecting him to be passed out, snoring in that way that he denies ever doing, and she would be able to just slip in without him noticing. They'd shared sleeping bags and blankets and beds throughout their years of hiking through the train, so it was nothing out of the ordinary, but she didn’t want to bother him after he finally got some privacy. She’d planned to be up and out the door before he ever woke up, and he’d never be the wiser. 

But, of course, that wasn’t what happened. 

When she opened the door, he wasn’t on the old green couch that was pushed up against the wall, but rather perched in a spinny chair in front of a wall full of monitors, clicking the keyboard to switch the cameras. 

“Si?” She asked, causing him to jump before he saw that it was just her. 

“Shit,” he mumbled, settling back down and fighting to push down a yawn, “Sorry, Grace. You scared me.”

“Some security cameras,” she’d joked dryly, coming to sit on the couch in the same way he was sitting on the chair. 

“Yeah, for real,” he nodded, spinning around to face her, “But, I mean, we could use these. Like, maybe move them around so we can see if anyone’s coming.”

“Si,” she held up a glowing hand to cut him off, tipping her head back so she was staring blankly at the ceiling, “I love you, but even you have to know that it’s way too late to be talking about that stuff.”

She didn’t see the way his face flushed nearly red enough to match the line running across it. The way that he stared down to the ground to avoid eye contact. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Sorry,” After a moment, he looked back to her, a quizzical expression on his face, “So… uh… what are you doing here? Considering how late it is, and everything.”

Maybe she should’ve thought far enough ahead to know what to say. She was usually more prepared than this. 

“I just…” she trailed off, now her turn to look down to the floor and blush, though admittedly not half as hard as he had, “Couldn’t sleep ‘s all. And I guess you can’t either, hence…” she made a vague gesture to the monitors, which he nodded at. 

There was a moment of silence before Simon broke it to simply ask, “do you want some cocoa?”

Half an hour and a trip to the newly discovered food court later, Simon and Grace returned to the security office, the monitors long-since shut off, and situated themselves both on the overstuffed couch. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had hot chocolate. Probably not since… well. Before. 

“Want to know a secret?” She asked, their combined numbers the only light source in the small room and casting an eerie green glow over everything, when she felt him nod beside her, she continued. “I couldn’t sleep because I don’t remember what it’s like being alone.”

She moved her head just enough to check his reaction, to see if he’d laugh or scoff or roll his eyes. Instead, he just returned her genuine stare, before saying, “me too.”

That night, once all the hot cocoa was gone, he lay down on his back and let Grace lay on his chest. And he only wheezed a little when she set herself down, and she only punched him a little for wheezing. But it was comfy and warm and familiar and quiet and Grace found herself almost missing the nights back when it was just them. 

They kept that up for about a week, before they both thought they were maybe brave enough to face the alone by themselves. But if one found it difficult for whatever reason, the other’s door was always open for them to slip in. Eventually, they just decided to pick a room for such an occasion. 

The room that Grace was currently in, her knees drawn to her chest,  _ The History of The Great Roman Empire _ perched on her knees, and Simon snoring next to her. 

He looked so kind when he was asleep. He’d become so angry recently. But then again, maybe they all had. 

Word had just gotten to the Apex about the coup of Amelia, who had yet to resurface since her ousting by the little robot. A handful of the kids had defected, scared that if they went against the new conductor they’d be punished. They’d slipped out while everyone else was asleep, but Simon and Grace had been in the security room as it had happened, and had caught sight of them just as they’d been unlocking the door. 

_ Grace, go get the others. We’ll- _

_ Simon, stand down.  _

_ What? _

_ I said stand. Down.  _

_ But they’re  _ **_deserting_ ** _ us! They- _

_ Then they’re not true believers. That’s their fault, not ours.  _

Grace had never been religious, but she didn’t mind the way that people treated her like a prophet, the way people cared for her like she was holy. 

That had been about a month ago. Since then, they’d strengthened their defenses, their training, and their cohesion. It was fun as long as you treated it like a game, a fun pastime. But sometimes there was a glint in Simon’s eye, and it made her think that it was more than any of that for him. But wasn’t it the same way for her? Was she not the one in charge of the Apex in the first place? The one with the highest number?

_ Veni. Vidi. Vici. _

The words were in big, bold letters at the top of a page, with a portrait of Julius Caesar beneath them. The most ruthless leader of them all. The best. The one with the highest number. 

_ I came. I saw. I conquered. _

But wasn’t there so much more to it than that? Julius wasn’t a great leader because he was ruthless, because he was calculating, because he came first. It wasn’t the achievements that had made him great, but the passion that had made the achievement. 

Grace had read this book at least five times through, had annotated every page with thoughts and historical context. So she could say with her whole heart that it wasn’t that Caesar had made Rome the empire it was for his pride, but he’d made it for Rome itself. He’d seen what it was and what it could be and that was the passion that had made him innovate and elevate. 

She looked down to Simon, resting easy next to her, a tuft of blond hair covering his face, and with a soft and private smile, Grace realized her passion. She reached over him, to the floor where a handful of supplies were scattered on the ground, and grabbed a black sharpie, pulling off the cap with her teeth before setting to work and scribbling in the book. 

“Grace?” A groggy voice came from next to her, and she looked down to see Simon rubbing a hand over his eye, still half asleep. As he pulled himself into a sitting position, she laughed at the way his hair seemed to stick out at a 90-degree angle. “What’re you still doin’ up?”

“Just reading,” she whispered, leaning over to straighten his hair and letting her hand linger on his cheek, still a bit smudged with red lipstick. “Nothing for you to worry about, you can go back to bed.”

He shook his head, twisting to press a quick kiss to her palm before scooting further into her space and snaking an arm around her waist. “Not if you’re still up. What kind of terrible second in command would I be if I didn’t make sure my general didn’t get a full night’s sleep?”

“A well-rested one,” she countered, despite scooting in, herself, and embracing his warmth. 

“What’re you reading?” He asked, leaning his head on her shoulder to peer at the book splayed out on her lap. After a few moments, he let out a soft laugh, “Is that the book I got you, like, a million years ago?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, then pointed to where she’d crossed out and rewritten a passage, “but it’s kind of outdated, so I had to make an edit.”

_ Veni. Vidi.  _ **_Amavi._ **

_ I came. I saw. I  _ **_loved._ **

**Author's Note:**

> I️ have complicated feelings about Simon, but I️ love he and Grace's relationship with my full chest and I️ believe that the writers know what they're doing. 
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr @ella-and-her-art


End file.
